


Age Is but a Number

by CandyDani



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discord: Dumbledore's Armada, F/M, Humor, M/M, Possible Blackmail, Sneaky Trolley Witch, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyDani/pseuds/CandyDani
Summary: She's lived 164 years, seen many students come and go.Though she may not remember her name, she remembered theirs.---WINNER OF BEST USE OF PROMPT OF THE RIDDIKULUS DUMBLEDORE'S ARMADA FLASH FIC COMPETITION.
Relationships: Hogwarts Express Conductor/Hogwarts Express Trolly Witch, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 23
Kudos: 20
Collections: A Riddikulus Flash Competition





	Age Is but a Number

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [RiddikulusComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RiddikulusComp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Hogwarts Express Trolley Lady (person)

_Aging is not lost youth but a new stage of opportunity and strength._ \- Betty Friedan

* * *

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

If she was to describe herself, it would be a business woman. Even as others would consider her as otherwise. Her appearance of a docile elderly woman caused many of the students to judge her wrongly. There were a few that did see her for what she was. Though she may not remember her name, she remembered theirs.

* * *

**1892**

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah, a Dumbledore is on the train.”

Whispers of the first-year boy spread throughout the train, each one as malicious as the next. The gossip of his father’s crime against those poor muggle boys seemed to have reached the impressionable ears of the next generation. It didn’t take a quick mind to see that they weren’t going to make this year easy for the boy.

Pushing the cart past a couple of students, she made her way to the compartment that hateful glares seemed to be directed at. With a simple flick of her hand, the door slid open, revealing the sullen child inside. Paying no heed to the thick air that surrounded her, she plucked an acid pop from her cart, twirling it in her thin fingers.

“Anything from the trolley, dear?”

The chatter among the halls quietened, hoping for a peek of the mysterious boy. He said nothing, gauging to see if she was a threat. All he was given was a warm smile, the acid green lollipop twirling absentmindedly in her hand. The realization hit him like a brick wall, his attention drifting to behind her to the students in the hall.

He knew what they wanted, and what they were looking for. They wished him to send her away, to live up to the cruel façade that has been painted of his father. Well, he wouldn’t allow it. He came here to change their minds, to show that he was different. The Dumbledore’s were not muggle-haters, his mother was a muggle-born, a fact many did not know.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he fished out a couple of sickles before presenting them to the elder woman, “Some Jelly Slugs, please.” He waited as she counted up the currency in her wrinkled hands, taking the sweets once it was handed to him. Laying back in his seat, he gave the trolley woman a polite smile, “Thank you.”

He was given a smile in return, the kindness in her eyes leaving his heart warm, “You are welcome, Albus.” As the door slid back closed, the smile was wiped off his face. Everyone only knew him by his surname.

* * *

**1942**

“Did you see the look on Walburga’s face when she looked at Orion?” The sneering voices from inside the compartment piqued her interest. “Of course, I’m sure if she expressed any more emotion, that face of hers would crack.” A bored tone responded, “I feel nothing but pity for Black, to be stuck with a cousin like her, but to also be betrothed? Seems the only thing that will keep him warm will be the house-elves.”

The mocking laughter died out as she appeared in the doorway, choosing to remain silent as she gave them her trademark smile, “Anything from the trolley, dears?” Peering eyes turned to the boy on the left side of the compartment, asking for permission. Ah yes, she remembered this one. His pale skin seemed to have been sunken in more, the baby fat disappearing to reveal a sharp jawline. As he tilted his head up to look at her, she caught sight of those piercing eyes, so haunted and dark.

“We are fine, thank you ma’am.” He responded in a polite tone, dismissing her completely. But yet, she remained. Without parting her gaze, the platter of chocoballs slid closer within his sight. The silence began to grow with tension. The gang of slytherins not daring to speak a word, allowing their leader to handle the situation.

Placing the book down carefully beside him on the seat, the teenager shot her a knee-weakening smile, “Now, I couldn’t spoil my appetite. Thank you for your offer.” He thought that would be enough, it typically was. But no. There she stood, the smile never moving from her wrinkled face. As he gazed into her eyes, he realized they were like obsidian, dark and reflecting back his image.

It felt as if she was looking right through him, the smile now seeming more sinister. Like she was threatening to spill his secrets. He despised the weakness that seemed to settle within him, the fear that she might actually know something. But, how could she? She was just a trolley worker.

He almost dared her to say something, but the silence continued, the tension beginning to form a tight hold around his neck. Adjusting his tie, he motioned over to Lestrange and Avery, “Don’t allow me to stop you from getting sweets.” The boys leaped at the chance, nearly throwing their money at the witch. Whether it was out of fear or the desire for sweets, that remained unclear. Counting it up, she wrapped the candies up in lace doilies.

As he went to pick up the book, one of the doilies was placed in his lap, taking his attention away once again. Sitting on his knee was a chocoball, a sweet that was packed with chocolate and pure diabetes. Looking up, he saw the sly smile as she carted herself off, leaving him with, “Have a nice day, Tom.” He despised his muggle name being spoken, but that was not what peeved him. The question burned in his mind for days after arriving at Hogwarts. How did she know that he enjoyed chocolate?

* * *

**1977**

“Where’s Moons and Pad?”

“I-I don’t know, they went off somewhere. Sirius told me not to follow them.”

The trolley witch brought her cart up to them, smiling sweetly at the boys. They noticed her and began digging in their pockets, allowing her a moment to observe them. They hadn’t changed very much since she had first seen them. The taller one was very handsome indeed, though his ego was famous among students. The shorter fellow was much more skittish, eyes dodging and head lowered. Still ever the same as the day they met.

There was a pair that had changed, however. The other half of this troublesome group. As she carted off, she kept her sights on the closed compartment further down the train. Once she arrived, she gave a simple flick of her hand. The compartment door opened to reveal the two boys tangled in each other. Even as the cold air found its way in, they paid no mind. Clearing her throat, she watched as they leaped apart.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

The darker one was avoiding her gaze, fixing his hair back into the messy bun. His partner however, was already taking out his sickles, “I’ll have some droobles.” She took her time counting up the money, allowing them time to fix their uniforms.

“Oi, I bet they’re hiding somewhere planning to prank us!”

Eyes widened as the voice of their friend grew closer, hands working faster to fix their ties and using the reflection of the windows to check their appearances. Once she was done, she took a packet of droobles and two blood pops, gifting them in her classic packaging. At the confusion, she simply smiled before answering, “Do be careful, they can make your lips look red, dears.” They touched their bruised lips, before quickly unwrapping their pops.

She left the compartment with a bag of sickles and missing a large supply of a certain candy. On her way out, the compartment door shut itself, the lock latching loudly.

* * *

**1994**

“I saw _him_. It wasn’t the elf, it was a man!”

Hushed whispers came from the compartment she was approaching. “Yes, but you don’t know what he looked like, Harry!” A female voice piped in, “We’re lucky that we didn’t get hurt.” It went quiet for a moment, giving her the time to slide in, appearing with the large cart of sweets.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

The trio looked towards her in shock, the realization that the door had been left open sinking in. The messy-haired boy reached into his bag, his red-headed friend following suit. She knew the little witch would not, she never allowed herself to indulge in sweets. As they came around her cart, she took the money. The red-head returned with his licorice, leaving his friend to figure out what he wanted.

“Two pumpkin pasties, please.”

The soft feminine voice took away his attention, the boy staring dreamily at the young witch as she got her sweets. The trolley witch said nothing, smiling politely at her, “Here you are, Miss Chang.” She waited a few moments after she walked away to snap the boy out of it, “Pumpkin Pasties dear?”

He simply nodded, reminding her of his father as she saw the dazed gaze, though that mischievous boy was always mooning after a redhead.

“She also likes Sugar Quills, Mr. Potter.”

* * *

If she was to describe herself, it would be a business woman. Some may call it ‘ _blackmailing_ ’ or ‘ _extortion_ ’, but it mattered not to her. Nor did if her customer was dark or light. What mattered was selling her sweets, and even at the age of a hundred sixty-four, there was no better person to sell them.

Counting up the large amount of currency at her now empty cart, a satisfied grin rested on her face. She had another successful day. Packing up her things, she made her way up to the Express Crew's compartment to tell the conductor about her day. Perhaps she’ll buy herself a new dress for their date. It wasn’t just teenagers that got to have a love life. After all, age is but a number.


End file.
